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Syafie R Jan 22
What

scaffold

eternal bounds?

Is it sinew, shadow, vacuum?

You reach, spirals unraveling becoming. Who forged laws?

Can the architect recall genesis, or memory ash? Walls hum with fractal hymns.

Each question births a child, becomes a labyrinth, sings of endless corridors. Beneath infinity's weight, does collapse spiral upward forever unfold?

It is a serpent in disguise— its tongue promises clarity, but clarity is a chimera. Thought consumes itself, meaning devours its maker, and nothingness births the heaviest burden: the need to ask again, endlessly.
Tried something a bit different here, mixed it with a little math. Let me know if I got it right or if I just made everyone’s brain hurt!
Jonathan Moya Jan 20
I found the city a pitiless thing.
It smelled of steel, concrete and the bay.
I use to sit on the sea wall that edged
my old college condo, the one I shared
with a black cat, and sing Otis Redding-
skipping the whistling part of his song
because my lips could never purse the
right tune- and watch the tide roll in
catching rainbows in the sun’s glint.

It  was the inhabitants I couldn’t take,
all rude and loud, smelling of salt
and stale fish scales and crab shells,
so snared in tiny toils, frail and idle,
their itching needs thirsty and *****.  
I lost my wonder in the traffic dust,
the night haze and starless nights.
I avoided touching that life less
it should defile me in its lost light,
night terrors and phantasms.

Then, in the small church in
the out of the way corner,
I found her, a strange vision
trembling, ready to emerge
just past the reach of my mind
and the urge of my will. She existed
beyond all jaded aims and
drab  dissemblements,
something unfounded, unbuilt
but ready, waiting to be built on.

On my birthday she bought me
a lounge chair to grace my
unfurnished balcony, on the
very day I purchased my own.
And there we sat (my desire),
watching the city unseal itself
across from me in a sweltering love,
constantly revealed, being
forever built and rebuilt on
in pain and unfathomable will.
FEEL THE VIBE,
feeling ALIVE,
as I Slip and slide,
and go on and glide!!
Be SMOOTH with it,
Go on and STRUT,
Keep on Stepping
You can't get enough
Feel the GROOVE!!
Feel the SENSATION,
get up and move,
Musical sounds of CREATION!!
the SOUNDS OF MUSIC
That helps to soothe
They say Music
soothe the
SAVAGE BEAST,
So, Jam along with us,
GET WITH THE BEAT
You don't have
NO RHYTHM
You can't find
your GROOVE
Just let the music
flow through you....
NOW, get up and MOVE!!!


B.R.
Date: 03/3/2023
Heidi Franke Jan 16
Let's walk down a path
Of economic prosperity
Turned to wealth
And forget the person

Definition of improving
What already exists
Translates to robot creation
From human biome matrix

We look over our shoulder
What wAs once us fades
As R and D facilities erase
Try to prove their worth

At what cut in our flesh
How deep into tissue
Or sawed bone are you
Willing to purchase

A world now
                 not our own?
How has progress in the capitalist experiment helped and hurt us? Who is watching the wealth spawned by innovation drown out the pawns. The average human. Who is watching the greed while we really are just an ingredient in someone's experiment? (Think tech industrial complex)

"Research and development (R&D) is the series of activities that companies undertake to innovate. R&D is often the first stage in the development process that results in market research product development, and product testing."
Jonathan Moya Jan 14
The ramshackled town falls quiet
to the artist’s eye in the retreating light.
The old houses will truce their aged lumber,
antiquity, for the invading dark beauty of his creation.

He lived here once as a boy, in the sadness of his angels,
held hostage (he thought), by the catechism of  church
and steeple, becoming  a refugee from sawdust and faith,
believing being an exile will open his eyes to the truth.

He had returned from his long sojourn in the East
after seeing and experiencing the freedom of the world,
determined to posses this tract, once green space,the mountain beyond— to surrender it all, to the truth he  knew.


The canvas submitted to his violence.  The brushes
knew again, the small wars between mind and nature.
The hunger, the hunger, the hunger of eternal creation  
that rises from the wanderlust in every artist and poet.    

He did not listen to their prayers for mercy.
He wailed in his starvation “Come! Come!”
The shades of town, mountain, flower, deer, came.
And, as he must, he destroyed and devoured it all.
Maria Jan 8
I forbid myself to be sad!
Today I really want that!
Causes are more than enough in fact.
They’re all mine and I won’t forget.

I forbid myself to be blue!
I’ve no time for it, really.
My blues eats me completely at all!
I disburden of it entirely!

I forbid myself to be fear!
It is no longer for me.
I have no desire for fright right here!
There is no place for fear in me!

I confirm myself to live!
I’ll remove every hitch on my way!
To burn! To struggle! To show! To create!
That's how I love anyway!
I confirm myself to live! This is my call to action!
010624

The beauty of Your Creation
speaks of who You are—
The art, the abstract, the purpose,
The meaning woven into all.
You hold every piece in Your hands,
And call it Your Masterpiece.

The gallery boasts not of its own depth.
The visitors pass through, entranced,
Some have not known the Artist,
But the patterns, from one work to the next,
Reveal His hand, His heart, His soul.

The Artist steps forward,
Presenting each piece to the naked eye.
But no one can claim them,
For they are His, and His alone—
A testament to His touch, His design.

Every piece has a story to tell,
One by one,
Some admiring the other,
Some passing by to the next,
Yet all are part of the grand design,
Each radiating its own magnificent beauty.

The balance, the harmony—
The Artist knows every detail.
He lingered over each intricate line,
Every stroke, every shape, every hue,
And He knows the angles where beauty hides,
In places the eye alone cannot see.

No glance is wasted, no hand unskilled—
Every piece a revelation,
A whisper of the divine,
A glimpse into the eternal,
Crafted with purpose, crafted with love.
In the name of God, I rise and soar,
O’ Lord of mercy, I seek Your door.
In royal nectar, Your light I sip,
Guiding my heart with every dip.

O’ Sustainer of souls, O’ Source of grace,
I answer Your call, to run my race.
Through fields of bloom, my wings take flight,
In Your name, I embrace the light.

O’ Most Merciful, O’ Compassionate One,
In Your love, my fears come undone.
With every beat, I feel Your hand,
Guiding my hive at Your command.

O’ Creator of bee and bloom,
In Your garden, there’s no gloom.
Grant me wisdom, pure and clear,
To lead with love, and not with fear.

In Your name, I hum and glide,
A queen, yet humble, by Your side.
With every drop, I find my power,
A gift from You, my sacred flower.

With every beat, my wings unfold,
In unity, our story told.
We serve in love, we share in prayer,
Our hearts entwined, Your mercy there.

O’ Nourisher, O’ Keeper of light,
Guide me through the day and night.
Let justice reign and mercy flow,
As through Your wisdom, we gently grow.

O’ Source of sweetness, pure and deep,
In Your embrace, we wake from sleep.
A thousand hearts, a thousand lives,
Together in Your mercy thrives.

Let my reign be kind, with wisdom bright,
Reflecting stars that shine so light.
In every flutter, in every prayer,
I am Your servant, everywhere.

In the name of God, I soar and sing,
A queen, a bee, on golden wing.
Humbly I serve, in love and trust,
In You alone, I place my trust.
A Queen Bee’s Prayer 05/01/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
Jamil:
Where dost thou dwell, O’ queen of bees,  
In silence, yet so deep, so free?  
Is it by crown, by power’s hand,  
That thou dost lead this sacred land?

Queen Bee (Buzzing softly):
Ah, Jamil, not by crown nor might,  
But in the pulse of love's own light.  
In the heart of the hive, I take my place,  
In every breath, in every grace.  

I sip from nectar, time's own brew,  
A labour's gift, both old and true.  
In each drop, a secret calls—  
A dance where soul and silence fall.

Jamil:
And what is this dance, where truth is spun,  
In each beat of wings, in the rising sun?  
Is it love that shapes the rhythm you keep,  
Where all things wake, and none shall sleep?

Queen Bee:
Love, like honey, doth life bestow,  
In its flavour, light, a dream aglow.  
The workers glide—each step a prayer—  
Their wings are whispers, soft in air.  

In every pulse, no greater, none too small,  
We rise, we fall—each answer calls.  
Is it I, who reigns in quiet sway,  
Or the hum of life that leads the way?

Jamil:
A hum of life? Can power be so pure,  
In a rhythm silent, yet so sure?  
Is’t the heart, or crown, that holds dominion,  
Or is there something beyond our vision?

Queen Bee:
Power lies not in the hand that reigns,  
But in the breath that sustains,  
In unity's pulse, in silence deep,  
Where hidden truths in stillness sleep.  

The hive, a mirror, a universe wide,  
Where every cell and pulse collide.  
In creation’s hum, we rise as one,  
In the sacred dance, all hearts are spun.

Jamil:
The dance of One… I feel it, too,  
In every breath, in every hue.  
But where is the throne, the crown of gold,  
In a world so humble, yet so bold?

Queen Bee:
Seek not the throne, nor crown's bright light,  
For in humble steps, shines divinity's might.  
The soul of the hive, the heart of song,  
Is the truth eternal, where all belong.  

In love’s embrace, no power is sought,  
For in each hum, the truth is taught.  
In the smallest grace, the Divine will dwell,  
In silence, where all truths swell.

Jamil:
And what of the path, the way to glow?  
How dost one dance, and truly know?

Queen Bee:
In rhythm’s hum, in love's sweet breath,  
In unity’s dance, we transcend death.  
Each step we take, each breath we draw,  
Is sacred song, eternal law.  

In honeyed light and grace unspoken,  
The chains of fear are swiftly broken.  
In every soul, in every mind,  
The dance of the One is all we find.

Jamil:
So we dance, not by force, but by grace—  
In every step, we find our place.  
The hive, the pulse, the hum, the song,  
In this, we rise, and we belong.

Queen Bee:
Yes, Jamil, in love’s embrace,  
All is One, and all is grace.  
The Queen within, the song of time—  
The truth of life, in every rhyme.  

Embrace the dance, the sweet release,  
In the pulse of love, find peace.  
For in this hum, in every heart,  
We are One, and never apart.

Jamil:
In humble joy, in silent prayer,  
We rise as one, in endless care.  
And in this truth, this dance so pure,  
We find our light, and we endure.

Queen Bee (Faintly humming):  
So hum, so dance, in love's embrace,  
For all is One, and all is grace.  
The Queen within, the heart of song,  
The truth of life, where we belong.  

In every soul, in every mind,  
The eternal dance of love we find.  
In unity’s rhythm, we shall soar,  
In love, in grace, for evermore.
The Hum of Unity 05/01/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
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